Character History:
I was born in Icara in 470. My parents, Stugart D'Nath and Carila Rhannast, met one another wandering the roads of northern Xaria. He was a Witness of Torma, and she a proficient swords-woman and scout. When Carila became pregnant, they settled on a small homestead in the hills of Icara. They knew that one day the lure of the road would again call to them, but that they needed to have a safe and secure place to raise their son.
My first six years were spent learning the basics of farming, reading, writing, and woodcraft. My parents had both become jacks-of-all-trade due to their adventurous lifestyles. They found that my mind would soak up anything they fed it, so feed it they did. During those years we lived a relatively carefree lifestyle, enjoying the wilderness around us.
Only a few months prior to my sixth birthday, the Icaran troops came. They were in force, nearly twenty all told. They demanded that my parents feed them from our precious stores of food, and give them a bed for the night. Now that I reconstruct it, I believe that my father used much magik that night to keep my mother from being abused. The next morning, as they departed, they stated that they would return to impress my father into service to Icara, as was the law of the land. Before the noon hour that day, we had packed what we needed, and fled.
For the next four years we wandered, moving ever eastward. My parents had decided early in my life that I would follow my father's footsteps, and become a Witness. Over the years my agnostic mother had come to see Torma's great power, and embrace Her vision. So, on my tenth birthday, when we arrived at the gate of Dresnell Keep in Akkoria, I knew it was time to bid my parents farewell. After a tearful goodbye, I was taken into the Keep.
I spent the next four years among the Witnesses being taught magik, steel, history, politics, and language. The class work was difficult, but everyday I found great joy feeling my Lady's might flowing through my limbs as she gifted us with her magik. The training schedule was rigorous, but we enjoyed ourselves. After my apprenticeship was complete, I took to the roads, in the style of my parents, to see the land and serve my Lady. I hope the one day I will again meet my parents, so I can show them the man that I have become. The man that they always wanted me to be.
After two years of wandering west, I was present in the forest outside of Grath at a crucial moment. I had been in the wilderness for several months and was three days beyond the end of my rations. I came upon an encampment, and short of food and money, offered to entertain the men there for a meal and a night near their fire. Never one for performance, I haltingly told stories of old, poems and tales from the travels of the Witnesses. After several hours of stories, another man joined us at the fire pit. He and I traded stories, me eating ravenously while he talked, him sipping from a goblet while I recited my lines. Late into the evening we were there, until it was just he and I. Only the next morning was I made aware that I had talked all night with Frederick II, the King of Chalter Medrium. Frederick was a known to be a shrewd monarch, and he saw in me the potential to serve his kingdom. He offered me a position as an Agent of the Crown, which I accepted.
My first assignment for His Majesty was working undercover to counter a smuggling and spying ring that was operating in Grath, the capital city. My investigation showed that the ring was receiving money and manpower from a powerful Lord on the Thieves Isles. About eight months into the mission, I had managed to work myself into a position close to the ringleader, a half-orc named Ort Natrik. He was using me as a courier, and when he learned of my spell-casting ability, he assigned me to his personal entourage. Only weeks later he was recalled to the Isles to make a report to his master. I was among the henchmen he chose to accompany him on his journey south. It was just prior to my seventeenth birthday when the ship landed on one of the Thieves Isles. I knew what a feat this was, to be on the Isles. That day I first began to suspect that Torma was following my life, and that I was a valuable servant to Her.
After I had gathered enough evidence to allow the Crown Guard to arrest the members of the guild, I got to sit in a Chalter Medrium gaol for six months, continuing to play the role of a fellow thief. Soon, however, I was removed from their company, and His Majesty reassigned me to other duties within the kingdom, distant from Grath, with his thanks. The next two years as an Agent were filled with general duties, working throughout the kingdom in varying investigations, from an embezzlement case against a northern quartermaster, to spying on suspected Icaran and Karandian agents.
In November 491, I was recalled to Grath by the Senior Agent, Elizium Longg. Eli, as he was called, told me to find my way to the city in secret, and to make contact with him. At our meeting he explained that he believed that Dark Elves were operating in the city. He could not readily explain to me how he came to this belief. At that meeting it seemed to me that the Senior was somewhat anxious, and distracted. It was the last time I saw him alive. Only two weeks later he was dead, of an apparent suicide.
Zachary speaking with Dagaroth
For the next month I developed a cover as an architect from Gesnor. I cut off my whiskers, and another Agent used his magik to alter my general appearance. The story held that I had been called in to research strengthening the battlements along the Grath outer wall. This gave me cover from any thieves who might remember me, as well as an excuse to be under the city. If the dark elves were there (which I doubted, my gravest error), they would see a common mason, not a spy…
This led to June 490, the darkest hour in my life. Frederick II was found dead in his quarters, with no signs of foul play. At the time if his death, there were only three Agents, myself included, within the city. Somehow, Prince Winslow's men kept us from seeing the body, until Frederick had been placed in the tomb alongside his father. Why we didn't see his treachery then, I'll never understand. Was our liege killed by the dark elves, or by his ambitious brother? Who reached him, how did they manage to hide the cause of his death from the royal mages?
Almost immediately upon his death the Lords of the kingdom began to call for a regent to be named for Frederick's eleven year old son. Logically, Frederick's brother, Prince Winslow, was chosen. Just before the coronation of the young son of Frederick II, the child vanished from the kingdom. The Agents were surprised and disgusted that this could occur right under their noses. In the chaos following this kidnapping (as we assumed it must be), Winslow convinced the Lords to support his coronation, and in May 491 he was crowned Frederick III. One of his first acts was to disband the Agents, removing from us our charter and authority.
Those of us in the capital gathered and decided to split our resources. Some of use would stay and continue attempts to uncover the cursed dark elves that must have had a hand in the death of our beloved King. The others would spread out across the land, find the prince, and return him to the throne.
So I was still in Grath, posing as an architect, when the order came down from the King to clear the city. He had his newly formed Special Guard remove all those who were not considered loyal to the King. That included everyone except the military. I found myself outside the city, still with no answers about the cause of the upheaval.
In the following months I stayed in the area of the city, holding onto my ruse of being a Gesni architect, attempting one last push to try to prove the Dark Elves' involvement. Much to my dismay, the proof I needed never surfaced. In February of 493, at the height of the elven genocide, I was present when Kyril Fëanor brought his troops to the city and assassinated Frederick III. Through Torma's fortune I was also present at the Rusty Dirk, a crossroads inn that saw much history pass through its doors. Fëanor was brought for trial, and acquitted. There too the decision was made to hold Sir Finnian as Regent, and to dissolve the Monarchy. And it was there that I first fought this decision, a fight that led to both my own banishment from Chalter Medrium, and the disgrace of the Agents of the Crown.
The new government pushed the Agents out as dissidents. The Senators had questions about our loyalties, for we made well known our displeasure at the way the Monarchy was pushed aside. Our group seemed to be the only one to question why Finnian was named “regent” when there was never any thought of returning to monarchial system of government. I still cannot believe that the royal bloodline was forgotten so easily. So, only four months after Fëanor's trial, Finnian was lauded a hero and named regent to an oligarchy. The Agents were thrown to the wolves, scapegoats for the previous regime's mistakes.
The Agents scattered to the winds. A characteristic of all the Agents was an individuality of spirit. Some of us, such as myself, found other paths to follow. I've heard that others continue to search for Xavier, still questing to return Chalter Medrium to its former glory.
Once again I found myself on the road, sleeping in fallen leaves, fighting off orcs, and eating the stale, soggy food. For the next few years I traveled the roads of the northern kingdoms, spending much time in the Three Peaks countries. There I survived by serving as a courier and scribe, working for merchants and smaller towns.
It is amazing to me how many of the smaller communities survive without the skills of letters, and record keeping. For almost eight months I was in a small town outside Mulcott, teaching a small group of children how to read and write. I'd tried to do this in other communities, but often was met with suspicion. There in Mulcott, however, a forward thinking elder sponsored my classes, housing and feeding me. It was there, in the woods of Palrim that my Lady first spoke to me.
At the beginning of 497, after holding class during a particularly bad snowstorm, I gratefully I dozed near the fire of the River Trout Inn. Soon, leaning back in my chair, head rested against the hearth, I dreamed. During those few moments of sleep Torma sent me a vision. When the Witnesses trained me, they told of how Torma will send visions between Witnesses, allowing one to see what another is seeing. It had never happened to me before. The vision she sent me was one of a meeting of the Elder Witnesses. In the vision I saw Alberath, speaking with the Lady herself! She told him of a prophecy, a moment in the future that will change all of Xaria. She said that at the end of 499, a great rift in time exists. Much of what she said was confusing to me, for she talked of the future as if it was the present. She stated that one man and one event will decide the future for all of Xaria, either destruction, or continued life. I will never forget the power of her voice, the lack of emotion and dispassionate way she spoke of the apocalypse. It showed me how much I had yet to learn about being her servant. She had to be sure that one with Her Sight be present when this prophecy comes true, and told Alberath to make sure that all of the Witnesses were travelling the land. One of us must find the Karandian; a man named “Tarrik”, and be by his side when the cusp moment occurs. She was forceful in her final words:
“I have always instructed that you maintain secrecy in your service to Me. However, the Karandian is more important than even that. Walk to lands, My Senses, talk to the people. Tell them of Me; tell them of your Quest. Make them open their eyes…” With that she faded away, and I awoke.
I spent several hours sitting by the fire, deciding my best path. I did not realize at that moment that in fact every Witness had been given this vision. I decided to wait for the winter to break then head for Karandia. I felt that perhaps there would be the best place to start my search for Tarrik, and for word of the prophecy. I went back to the Elder's house, and told him of my planned departure. During our conversation, he mentioned that perhaps the Blood Sky Omen had something to do with the coming troubles. He felt that perhaps the Omen was the first sign pointing to the millennial apocalypse. His logic was strong, and it gave more direction to my travels.
Upon reaching Karandia in the early spring, I began my attempts to gain access to one of the libraries, and to find anyone who would tell me of Tarrik. I found out quickly that his name was one that should not be spoken there, he and his family were in a great deal of disfavor. My days and nights were occupied trying to win the approval of a member of the Mage's council. It all turned for naught as one after another of the men I befriended fell to the political infighting that is so rampant there. With autumn again approaching, and news of a war between Dakkor and Doro Y'Edhel, I struck out, faithless and frustrated. I knew that my skills would serve me well near a war. I could sell the information I gathered to the highest bidder.
These plans began to unravel as the ship I was on was forced ashore in Irroquin by the naval blockade of Jannen's Bay. I decided to make my way north on foot. In Sep 497, I was at a crossroads Hall of Traveler's outpost when I met my old friend Jayfoot Bloomrose. There a large group of travelers confronted and defeated a Sequestrum Mage, Darien, who was attempting to open a portal to allow demons loose onto our world. Also during these three days, I met and was offered a job with the Crimson Serpents, a fighting band. But the most fortuitous meeting of those days was the Smithy Garn. He and I found that we share our birthplace, Icara. We struck a bargain. He is searching for Valkirk's Anvil, an ancient Dwarven Relic that is the match to his magical hammer. Both items belonged to his one time master, a Dwarven smith of great renown. Using Garn's Hammer and with Torma's blessing we enchanted my blade with the ability to force answers from anyone I question. In return, I promised to help Garn with his quest to find the Anvil.
At the end of these few days, Jayfoot proceeded south, with a group of Veldron knights and mercenaries, and I went north, towards the war. Only days later, at yet another Hall of Travelers encampment, I met a female dwarf named Mrin. Uncommon as Dwarfs are, to meet a female wandering Xaria is truly unusual. This encounter was yet another sign that I once again was in Torma's favor. I was able to share with her the information I know of the dragons, and the Blood Sky Omen. She was able to tell me much of what was occurring in the Dark Elf offensive. Apparently, she had only recently escaped their custody, although that was a story she was unwilling to relate.
After traversing Gallura, I reached the border of Doro Y'Edhel and Quivera, the front in the war between the elves and their dark kindred. There I made contact with Drusky Pinchflint, a representative of the Lindora government. He was there at the behest of his leaders to confirm that the trade resources reaching Quivera were not being diverted for the war efforts of either side. He agreed to pay my wage, if I would help him in gathering information about the war. For the next 5 months I worked in and around the region, including all of Quivera and Gallura, most of Dakkor and Doro Y'Edhel, and parts of Uragoth. In this time I learned much of the conflict, but nothing of the Dark Elven mentality. How they could afford to maintain a war against four separate countries is still a mystery to me. As the non-aggression pact between Doro Y'Edhel and Dakkor took hold the conflict began to take on a feel of guerrilla warfare, with the Dark Elves making only occasional attacks against caravans and supply depots. The income from Lindora was no longer available, so it seemed time to work on my bargain with Garn. Assuming that the best place to start searching for a Dwarven Relic is the Dwarven homeland, I decided to head north, towards Torin. I posted messages across Quivera hoping to have the Smithy Garn meet me in Palrim, at the Autumnal Festival. I'd hoped to have something to share with him regarding his quest.
Although I spent most of my time around the war paying attention to the conflict itself, I was always aware of any mention of an apocalypse, or of the man named Tarrik. On the roadways and in the taverns the most were unaware of the potential problems. The few that I heard discussing it, seemed to believe that the Blood Sky Omen of 250 was in fact a precursor of this prophecy.
In Torin I hope to find someone who was alive at the time of the Omen, someone who witnessed it. If I met with failure in Torin, my plan was to proceed to Akkoria to try to view the Documents of the Hands, the records kept by my faith. If the Hands would allow me to read them, perhaps I could glean some connection that had been invisible to the other Witnesses.
In August, 498, a courier met me in Quivera. He was carrying a message from my friend Jayfoot Bloomrose. The letter notified me that Jayfoot had been granted the status of Ambassador by the Halfling Elders. They had given him the task of learning more about the "Apocalypse". It seems that again our paths were entwined. We met in Telumar, and then traveled to the autumnal festival in Palrim.
As always seems to befall, my time with Jayfoot was eventful. At the Dwarven Baths in Palrim, a garrison of Gesnor troops had blockaded the crossroads, and was making records of all travelers. It seems that General Talonz, their commander, had been requested to keep the festival safe from dark elf incursions. To justify his troop's presence, a desiccated dark elf was hung from a tree near the Gesnor camp.
During our first afternoon there, the Gesni dragged a beautiful female human prisoner into camp. There, before a group of travelers, Talonz claimed that she was a sympathizer, having traded information to the dark elves. As I looked into her eyes, I could see that the General's story was not truth. Little did I know, I was both right and wrong.
Others in the group near the Inn felt as I did, and we set out to devise a plan to free the captive, to hear her story. We could feel an evil presence at work in General Talonz's camp. As the day progressed, the plan began to take shape. That night, a distraction would be made, while several of us freed the woman. Unfortunately for me, that night matters of greater import distracted me.
Sometime after dark, a creature entered the campground, Maglon, one of the Consortium Arbiters. For over a year I had been hearing tales of these creatures wandering the land, and had hoped to Witness one myself. That night I was able to speak at length with Maglon. He confirmed many of my suspicions, and also added much to my knowledge of the prophecy.
Maglon first questioned us. His three questions referred to current events around the lands. He asked if indeed the Elven Queen was seeking a new consort, if her husband had been killed by Shadows. Of this I answered yes, for the dark elves had recently assassinated the Elven King. Next he asked me if the “eagles fought among themselves in the mountains.” Again, I answered yes for I knew The Pick was seeking a revolution among the Eagle Elite, the Gesni military. His third question confused me, for he spoke of a land I did not know. Only later was it made clear to me. He asked if those who had been banished to Thien-Dun had begun a revolt, seeking self-rule. It has since been revealed to me that this refers to Gherin Culloch, and again speaks truth.
These answers seemed to make him resolved; my responses were what he sought. My questions were then answered in kind. Among his statements he made it clear that the coming judgement would be against only those people living in the lands once controlled by the Consortium, that is, only the humans. The demi-races would be spared. He also told us that at the judgement, at the gathering of the arbiters, any that chose would be allowed to speak, to bear witness for their people.
The following morning, again my Lady blessed me. Through Her Eyes and Ears I was allowed to communicate with Pernum Darkstorm. He appeared to me in a vision, and we were able to converse. He revealed that he is the Hands to the Lady Torma, one of the five most senior of the Witnesses. Pernum related Her desire for me to seek Tarrik, at all costs; that I had been chosen among the Witnesses to travel with Tarrik, to be Her link to the momentous events that Tarrik had set in motion. The experience of having the renowned Pernum Darkstorm appear to me at the behest of my Lady and speak to me as another Witness left me in awe. Many times in my service to Her awareness and power have astounded me, but never before have I been witness to Her might as I was that day.
In comparison to these two events, the rest of the happenings in Palrim were like a blur. The prisoner was freed, however, she was a double agent, loyal to Gesnor, and we the rescuers were exposed as members of a revolutionary group, "The Pick". General Talonz was found to be in league with a demonologist, and was slain. Two ancient Sequestrum Battle Lords appeared, and were destroyed. (I believe one set of their armor survived, but I know not of its fate.) There were other minor events, all of which pale beside my blessed Quest.
The next few weeks were spent travelling west with Mrin, Garn, Thomas, Jayfoot, and Peony. After several uneventful weeks, I decided to return to the south, towards Irroquin. There I'd hoped to make contact with Randall Straus of the Hall of Travelers. From a statement he once made to me, I felt that perhaps he would be a good contact to ask about Tarrik. It was my suspicion that he was a Witness, or at least knew of our Order.
In February 499, I reached Irroquin, and began looking for any trace of Tarrik and his party. While at a local Inn, I was able to intercept an official Hall of Travelers document, a wanted poster listing me as the assassin of Gesnor's General Talonz. It offers a very high reward. This both concerns and intrigues me. Why am I to be singled out as his murderer from among the group of travelers who were present at his death? Why is Gesnor willing to spend so much money to capture me? I must have stumbled upon a more complex situation than I realized. If I survive the coming months, and the arbiters do not change the world I know, I will travel to Torin, to find Mrin, to see if her family through the Three Peaks Accord can get the charge dropped.
That night I slept in the tree line outside the town. I awoke just before dawn from a powerful dream. In my dream I saw a man I once knew, in Chalter Medrium, looking somehow both content and afraid, with another man, an evil man. They were aboard a ship, somewhere at sea, returning to the mainland. Somehow I knew that the ship was bound for a port in Nost'Karé.
The intensity and clarity of the dream made me anxious to head east, to make sure I was there in time to meet the ship. The next morn, before sunrise, I went to the stables to hire a horse. For the next five weeks I went from town to town, selling one tired horse and buying another. By the middle of March I had made it to Halgudar, with little difficulty. There, walking my exhausted horse, I found a posting saying that the local Halgudar commander was hiring adventurers. This proved a good opportunity to get a fresh horse, so I answered the posting at the local fort.
The Commander there told of a series of strange sightings by farmers in the area. He hired myself and two other adventurers to investigate. We entered the woods, and began seeing signs of magik running wild. As the day wore on we began encountering increasingly larger numbers of undead Dark Elves. It seemed that they had died in a fire, and their bodies had then been re-animated. We knew we were nearing our goal when one of them addressed us, telling us to turn back. He was dispatched quickly.
At the focus of this disturbance we found an ancient Elven artifact, apparently misused by a Dark Elven wizard (who died in the attempt), causing a portal to open upon a magikal space, which was now leaking its power into the countryside. Guarding this portal was a being, calling himself Warpskull, from that magikal realm. The three of us, combining magik and steel were able to defeat him. The Elf among us was able to command the artifact to close the portal.
I returned to the fortress to collect my wage. As I suspected the Halgudar have little in the way of coin, but have agreed to give me passage on a ship that is bound for the coast. For the next two weeks I helped pull rope and clean fish aboard the ship, heading down river and towards Nost'Karé.
Upon reaching shore, I booked myself a room at a local Inn, cleaned myself up, and began searching for the most logical stopping spot for someone just off a ship. Soon I found the Forked Tongue Inn, just up from the water. I knew almost immediately that I had found what I was seeking, for Owen of Veldron was there in the Inn, as was both Pernum Darkstorm, and Angus Belch! (I knew Angus from Chalter Medrium, during the dark days at the end of my employ there.)
During the eve, many things of note occurred. Pernum Darkstorm and I were able to talk at some length, and I told him the stories of my travels. He stated he had been sent by our Lady to tell me of the Dark Elven war, but unfortunately he was unable to give me anything I had not already learned myself.
Also present at the Inn was Darien, the Sequestrum Mage I had encountered several years before. He seemed jovial, but who can tell? He also promptly called me by his true name, which was heard by several Beastmen who were there, a slip that caused me duress the following day.
But most fortunate, I was able to meet the remaining members of Tarrik's band. Owen of Veldron, the knight who knew me from Irroquin, spoke for me with the other men. After magikal questioning by their Elven Mage, they agreed to have me join them. At last, my quest has begun.
The next day we were to meet at a crossroads way station, then proceed forward with our quest. It did not go smoothly. The Knights were late arriving. We traveled with a caravan that was harassed by goblins. A djinn appeared and began casting spells at everything in sight. A group of Beastmen appeared, trying to collect the bounty on my head. And, a powerful warrior cursed to wear armor that was enslaved to a golden disc made an appearance. Too late did we realize that the DeMekrium mage who arrived to capture the Djinn was in fact one of Primor's acquaintances and that by allowing him to take the Djinn we were in fact harming our cause. Haggard Di, a wandering bully and warrior arrived, and it seems is our only lead on finding Tarrik. Haggard Di was most recently a General in Dakkor responsible for carrying out the Elven genocide. Working with him is going to prove difficult, especially with two Black Rose Knights in our midst. Following his instructions, we are heading towards Rynith, which is the route to Primor and Tarrik...
The next weeks were difficult ones, a group without a leader. We knew that for our Quest to succeed we would need to recover Tarrik, and for that reason we traveled into Fer Garruth, fighting off wave after wave of Barbarians, following Haggard Di along an uncertain path. On yet another day along the trail we encountered the Left Hand of Vorak, an acolyte named Brianna. She stated that her God had sent her to aid us, to protect Tarrik. Under the Perceptions of my Lady she confirmed that she spoke truth, and we accepted her into the group.
Several hours down the path, with yet more conflict with barbarians, we came upon a clearing. In that clearing were many elves, perhaps twelve, performing a ceremony I had never witnessed before. As I approached, and the rest of the band circled them, I called upon my Lady’s sight. In the center of the circle, the elves had Tarrik bound, bloodied, and gagged. It became clear that they intended to judge him guilty of a capital crime, and slay him there, before our eyes! How little they understood the fate to which they so off-handedly surrendered this world!
A melee broke out, with both sides reluctant to cross swords, but also both sides unwilling to concede. Luckily, myself and Brianna were able to get through the elves to Tarrik, and my Lady placed a protection over us, allowing the chaos to swirl around us, without Tarrik coming to any more harm. Unfortunately, Tarrik was still under the influence of the Godstone, and unable to assist us in his escape. After much argument, some bladework, and considerable magiks, we were able to free Tarrik from his bonds, and take him from the elves. In the midst of the chaos, though, both Haggard Di and Vadrick, son of Kyril Fëanor, Black Rose Knight, fell.
The next two months were occupied with myself, Tarrik, and Risha travelling to Doro Y’Edhel. The rest of the group split to accomplish other goals. We would meet again at the Arch in Chalter Medrium in July. In Doro Y’Edhel, I was able to see Kyril Fëanor, for the first time since he had come to Chalter Medrium and was tried. The meeting with him was very difficult. He already knew of his son’s death, but Tarrik and I had information about Vadrick that common couriers could not relate. During this meeting, I too told him of my long held hatred and bitterness against he and his actions in Chalter Medrium so many years ago. He seemed both surprised, and appreciative of my admission. We spoke together for many hours. I could tell that he had many other duties he was letting lie while we spoke, and the importance of that decision was obvious. After our talk, he walked to his chest, and took from it a chain shirt, of elven build. To me he presented it, with thanks for my frankness both about his son and about my anger. He told me that the importance of Tarrik’s quest cannot be understated, and that perhaps with the magikal chain I will be better able to help Tarrik succeed.
During the first week in Doro Y’Edhel, I penned a letter to Sir Finnian, seeking his aid in the coming months. I had too reached the conclusion that all the Questors had realized: we needed all the help we could get. So, with the letter I asked Finnian to aid us in any way he could. And told him to please respond to the Hall of Travelers. There waited an elven courier, to bring Finnian’s response to my request if it were to arrive.
Unfortunately, the time of our departure came, with no word from Chalter Medrium. Fearing the worst, Tarrik and I moved north, to meet Risha at the front lines of the war, and to attempt passage into the Kingdom. With the unexpected help of elven scouts, we three were able to cross into Chalter Medrium unmolested, and made haste to the Arena.
There, the Quest gathered. Tarrik, Risha, and I were first to arrive. Hours later, first Mordekai, then Owen. Over the next day followed Angus, Blackthorn, Viraddon, and Gault.
After fighting off recurrent goblin attacks, we were able to sit and discuss our plans. Over the hill, came a scream, and a Chalter Medrium soldier came running. Closely behind her was a large band of Goblins. Before we could close to confront them, she had been slain. Only after the battle did someone call me over to the body. To my dismay, upon her wrist was the tattoo of the Agents. For eight years I had been seeking another of my kind, and her she lay, dead. Adding to my misery, it was for me that she had come. In her hand was a note, a return message from Finnian. It clearly stated that he wanted to help, but could not. So, he had given my letter to one of his men, another Agent. In the message it was made clear to me that Finnian was going to aid us. He would provide access to the Arch on the 9th of September, days prior to the Judgement, so that we could make our way to Ile Sen unmolested.
After we had buried Eloisa, we journeyed the short distance to the arena, and there had a true conversation, for the arena is a place void of magik. Finally, the Quest was nearly whole, and feeling positive about the coming battles and trials.
That night, a strange dream came to us all. We were seated around the fire, trying to enjoy its warmth and the camaraderie of the group, when something acted upon us, driving us into an unquiet sleep. The next I realized, I was in a dream…
A man came to the fire, saying his name was Peralton, the missing guide, a member of the Quest. He asked me to follow him into the woods. I, and the rest of the group, followed. He led us along a trail that only he could see. Along this path, we were shown a future so hideous, it is hard to believe it now. He showed us a world after our failure, a time when Primor holds sway, and is conquering the Land. We were shown people we know, and trust, fighting a fight they could not win. I saw the Sequestrum mage Darien fighting and dying side-by-side with Anduin of Veldron. I saw Ade, cursing Tarrik and his quest. And we saw Tyrus, following the commands of Primor’s men. It still chills me to think of it.
When the phantasm of Peralton returned us to the fire, we awoke, each adventurer sharing his own private dread. The ashen look on Tarrik’s face was horrible to behold. I begged my Lady to show me what was real and what was illusion, but She would not grace me with Her sight. This test I was forced to confront on my own. After several moments of conversation about what we had experienced, I left camp, for I needed to seek my Lady’s guidance. There, kneeling next to Eloisa’s grave marker, I spoke to Torma, and the answers I found were very disturbing.
As I observed my surroundings, and began the simple mantra, I found my thoughts wandering to the scenes from the dream. There I saw many people who are familiar to me forced into roles they would not normally manage. Did this in fact show that who we are is not real? Do we wear our selves like clothes, free to remove or change them as needed? This could explain how a simpleton such as Todd could become a poison wielding assassin. My next thought chilled me to the bone: Could the Consortium be correct? Is this world, this civilization, unworthy? We have constant strife, wars that ravage the countryside. Lands that once were joined are now at each other’s throats. We seem to be holding a line against an ever strengthening foe, one who, if not watched, steals allies and turns them against you. Perhaps the Judgement of the Arbiters to raze this place would be the best thing possible. Take it back to nothing and build again…
Soon, awareness returned to me. I had spent quite some time in the darkness, near the grave of the friend I never knew. But, I stood, and turned back towards the fire. Back to Tarrik’s side. What am I to do? I am but one Witness, asked by the Lady Torma to be present at this crucial moment in time. Am I to aid Tarrik, or simply Witness his trials? Am I to be a participant in this event, or only a conduit for Her to see what occurs? I find that as the day grows nearer I must take Her instructions literally, as our faith believes we must. She has instructed me to assure that Tarrik and I reach the Judgement. Once there, I am to be Her Witness to the events that transpire. I must become as impartial an observer as I can. There, I must wear the robes of my faith closely about myself. I must provide a view with clarity and quietness.
It is more apparent now, I must no longer fight for Tarrik’s cause once the Judgement begins. If the Arbiters confront me for my words, they will hear all that I have seen; the good and bad, the selfish and selfless. I will be the only Witness there, so through me She must see the Judgement as clearly as I can provide.
I now find myself looking forward to this ending. I am certain now that it is She that I serve in all that I do. If, during our time on Ile Sen I am forced from this realm, it is by Her side that I will stand. I must, however, survive the conflict so that I can Witness the Judgement. Mayhap I can prepare another to walk in my place if I fall. I should speak to Manasseh, perhaps he will be willing to call upon my Lady when the Judgement occurs.
Much has happened in the past year of my life. I did go to the Judgement, and there I did serve my Lady well. It was difficult. She sent along with I two other Witnesses, an elder who had traveled with Primor, another a novice whom I had recruited. There the balance was maintained, for the novice fought for Tarrik, and I and elder stood and witnessed, and did not interfere.
It was a troubling event, for, many of the people with whom I had spent so much time were slain. The Arbiters of the Consortium arrived, and, as was Tarrik’s suspicion, Stanscliff arrived to attempt to control their decision. His forces overwhelmed the Questors, and only through the arcane magik of the Arbiters allowed them to walk again. Mordekai of Veldron, however, was lost beyond recovery.
I again was graced by my Lady while in Dominia. She entered the body of the novice, Peony, and spoke with me. She felt that I was wavering in my ability to accurately Witness for Her, and, spoke to me of Her needs, and my pledge. It was both wondrous to be in her presence, and unbearable to think that I was so close to failing Her. After that moment, my hair transitioned to the silver of an elder.
After returning from that distant continent I was recalled to the Keep, to write for the Hands my experiences. It took me the majority of the winter to accurately present the story. When spring came, and I was released, I spent a day of meditation. I was hoping that She would give me another task. But, no matter how precise and complete my prayers, She did not answer. This made me realize that I had come to rely too much on Her intervention, and that I could no longer distract Her from Her duties. So, it was up to me to choose that which needs to be Witnessed. As I reviewed my life, I realized that I already had the path to the next quest. Darien, of the Sequestrum, knows of me and my faith. I must find him, and Witness his world. I must show Her what She has not yet seen. In Nost’Kare, I found him…
Though my path brought me to his side, and I understand that because of my sacrifice his world is now known to Her, the time I spent in his company was extremely disquieting. There are many stories I could tell of those travels, but I have chosen to leave them between him and I, and I and Her. To reveal (revile, revel) those tales I feel would serve no good for anyone. It is my sole hope that I will never cross paths with one who would demand from me what I have seen. For in my desire to preserve from others the horrors I have Witnessed, I may be seen to shelter the enemy of all goodness. It is a quandary that I have not yet been forced to solve.
I have spent the past three years wandering peacefully about the roads of Xaria. After so long in the thick of things, as it were, it has been a nice change to not whet my blade each night. There is so much that was within my reach all those years that I never Witnessed, focused as I was upon a seemingly larger goal.
My hair now grows long and is silvered; the Lady’s power has flowed through me for many seasons. I have returned to those lands I once traveled with Tarrik and Frederick. I have returned to the mountains of Dominia, and seen the strange trees, birds, and men. I spent months in the lands of Nost’Kare, seeking quiet moments with those who shade their faces, and always glance to the ground. The people of Chalter Medrium again suffer for their folly, yet they seem forever unable to admit their weakness…All these things and places I have Witnessed, and She has written.
Word reached me in Palrim that Olivia Goslar was to wed in September of 504. Upon traveling there I met many whom I had met before. At her wedding it became clear that her groom had plans other than marriage, and the gathered group, strange bedfellows all, were able to prevent his attempts at capturing magik for his own device. Of more import at the wedding, I found myself sitting in a sunny patch, bringing my awareness to the world around me, and praying to Her. As I sat there, it came very clearly into my head that I should lay my sword upon the wedding gift basket, and that once disarmed, I would have nothing to fear.
As the wedding occurred, and the groom’s plan came into view, it seems that he had performed an ancient rite that allowed him access to the magik of all mages in his homeland, and all mages who had ever encountered Olivia. I too experienced a loss of Torma’s touch. Though, unlike other mages around me, as the night progressed She and I were reunited. My first theory is that his magik could not fool the gods, though I could not test this as there were no other priests with us. My second thought, and now I suspect the correct one, is that She could see what this man was about to do, and used it as a chance to bring me closer to Her. The next morning I realized that She was granting me more power, more favor, more quickly. I have often heard tales amongst the Witnesses that those who reach the highest ranks of Her followers are often treated this way.
For two years since I left the path of Darien of the Sequestrum I have not put Her power and my skills to work. Though the quiet places of the world also deserve Her attention, I am not to walk there. I have been in difficult and complex places, facing wonderful and terrible moments. She wants me to again walk to the dangerous places.
I have been aware for nearly six months that something was amiss in the underplanes. Darien taught me much of that world, and the powers that reside there. Something is wrong, and I suspect it comes from four years ago when I was present in the underworld for the escape of Caspian. That world is not settled, a civil war may be coming.
This of course all assembled in my mind as the portal appeared before me in the brush. I have seen Darien open these before (usually through the brutal death of a child). I am sure it is no accident that the portal appeared near me. Whether by Her wish, or perhaps Darien, I am to attend whatever happens next…
(Stepping through this portal, I was brought to a game run by Robin in October of 2004. I honestly cannot remember much of the plot, though it was the game with the Flies. I think we saved the world, but just barely.)
Feeling the pull of familiar land, following my trips into the alternate planes, watching mortals battle the forces of our shared reality, I traveled to Chalter Medrium. There, at an Inn, I met a ghost to whom I was related. His tale was a simple one, which once understood and told, allowed him his final, innocent rest. This was the midwinter, 504.
For the months since, I have walked the trails and paths of Chalter Medrium, ever moving further east. The monster army is growing more bold, and their incursion into human lands is a fascinating process to watch. They advance, pillaging and burning as they go. The few movements they do make where property is not destroyed is those ravines, valleys, or glades which can be well defended and supplied from within the Dark Shadow Forest. The military skill shown in their advance seems beyond the ken of normal monsters. Perhaps I need meet Ank? Would he be willing to speak to me? Could I survive the parlay?
For now, I will stick to the edge lands, observing people respond to this new, potent and terrifying threat. As always, it is humankind that holds my interest. Perhaps there is truth that we were the last, perfected creation of the gods?
After a particularly cold winter in the lands to the north of Uragoth, I have decided to take a break in Rynith, or perhaps Akkoria. To that end, I have traveled across Dakkor, south through Lindora, and will soon enter Halgudar to turn east towards Rynith. Perhaps this Inn will suffice for a nights sleep?
505 - was at an Inn which was held up by brigands with firearms
509 - was in-game in Halgudar to discuss life with Svar Vorchanchin.
Much time has passed untold here. Zachary has transcended from PC to NPC, for the most part, as his knowledge of Xaria rivals mine, which makes him a useful device, and a somewhat dull character to play in-game. Were this D&D, he would be of very high-level, dealing with very high-level problems. We don't have the system or style to manage this conversion.
You may meet him walking the roads of Campaign, or at an Inn. I love to be him, but, here in 2009 I think I am done keeping close track of him. Torma has granted him great power, and in return he serves her well. If you have managed to read down this far and are a GM looking for his presence as PC or NPC, please let me know.
Character History:
I was born in Icara in 470. My parents, Stugart D'Nath and Carila Rhannast, met one another wandering the roads of northern Xaria. He was a Witness of Torma, and she a proficient swords-woman and scout. When Carila became pregnant, they settled on a small homestead in the hills of Icara. They knew that one day the lure of the road would again call to them, but that they needed to have a safe and secure place to raise their son.
My first six years were spent learning the basics of farming, reading, writing, and woodcraft. My parents had both become jacks-of-all-trade due to their adventurous lifestyles. They found that my mind would soak up anything they fed it, so feed it they did. During those years we lived a relatively carefree lifestyle, enjoying the wilderness around us.
Only a few months prior to my sixth birthday, the Icaran troops came. They were in force, nearly twenty all told. They demanded that my parents feed them from our precious stores of food, and give them a bed for the night. Now that I reconstruct it, I believe that my father used much magik that night to keep my mother from being abused. The next morning, as they departed, they stated that they would return to impress my father into service to Icara, as was the law of the land. Before the noon hour that day, we had packed what we needed, and fled.
For the next four years we wandered, moving ever eastward. My parents had decided early in my life that I would follow my father's footsteps, and become a Witness. Over the years my agnostic mother had come to see Torma's great power, and embrace Her vision. So, on my tenth birthday, when we arrived at the gate of Dresnell Keep in Akkoria, I knew it was time to bid my parents farewell. After a tearful goodbye, I was taken into the Keep.
I spent the next four years among the Witnesses being taught magik, steel, history, politics, and language. The class work was difficult, but everyday I found great joy feeling my Lady's might flowing through my limbs as she gifted us with her magik. The training schedule was rigorous, but we enjoyed ourselves. After my apprenticeship was complete, I took to the roads, in the style of my parents, to see the land and serve my Lady. I hope the one day I will again meet my parents, so I can show them the man that I have become. The man that they always wanted me to be.
After two years of wandering west, I was present in the forest outside of Grath at a crucial moment. I had been in the wilderness for several months and was three days beyond the end of my rations. I came upon an encampment, and short of food and money, offered to entertain the men there for a meal and a night near their fire. Never one for performance, I haltingly told stories of old, poems and tales from the travels of the Witnesses. After several hours of stories, another man joined us at the fire pit. He and I traded stories, me eating ravenously while he talked, him sipping from a goblet while I recited my lines. Late into the evening we were there, until it was just he and I. Only the next morning was I made aware that I had talked all night with Frederick II, the King of Chalter Medrium. Frederick was a known to be a shrewd monarch, and he saw in me the potential to serve his kingdom. He offered me a position as an Agent of the Crown, which I accepted.
My first assignment for His Majesty was working undercover to counter a smuggling and spying ring that was operating in Grath, the capital city. My investigation showed that the ring was receiving money and manpower from a powerful Lord on the Thieves Isles. About eight months into the mission, I had managed to work myself into a position close to the ringleader, a half-orc named Ort Natrik. He was using me as a courier, and when he learned of my spell-casting ability, he assigned me to his personal entourage. Only weeks later he was recalled to the Isles to make a report to his master. I was among the henchmen he chose to accompany him on his journey south. It was just prior to my seventeenth birthday when the ship landed on one of the Thieves Isles. I knew what a feat this was, to be on the Isles. That day I first began to suspect that Torma was following my life, and that I was a valuable servant to Her.
After I had gathered enough evidence to allow the Crown Guard to arrest the members of the guild, I got to sit in a Chalter Medrium gaol for six months, continuing to play the role of a fellow thief. Soon, however, I was removed from their company, and His Majesty reassigned me to other duties within the kingdom, distant from Grath, with his thanks. The next two years as an Agent were filled with general duties, working throughout the kingdom in varying investigations, from an embezzlement case against a northern quartermaster, to spying on suspected Icaran and Karandian agents.
In November 491, I was recalled to Grath by the Senior Agent, Elizium Longg. Eli, as he was called, told me to find my way to the city in secret, and to make contact with him. At our meeting he explained that he believed that Dark Elves were operating in the city. He could not readily explain to me how he came to this belief. At that meeting it seemed to me that the Senior was somewhat anxious, and distracted. It was the last time I saw him alive. Only two weeks later he was dead, of an apparent suicide.
For the next month I developed a cover as an architect from Gesnor. I cut off my whiskers, and another Agent used his magik to alter my general appearance. The story held that I had been called in to research strengthening the battlements along the Grath outer wall. This gave me cover from any thieves who might remember me, as well as an excuse to be under the city. If the dark elves were there (which I doubted, my gravest error), they would see a common mason, not a spy…
This led to June 490, the darkest hour in my life. Frederick II was found dead in his quarters, with no signs of foul play. At the time if his death, there were only three Agents, myself included, within the city. Somehow, Prince Winslow's men kept us from seeing the body, until Frederick had been placed in the tomb alongside his father. Why we didn't see his treachery then, I'll never understand. Was our liege killed by the dark elves, or by his ambitious brother? Who reached him, how did they manage to hide the cause of his death from the royal mages?
Almost immediately upon his death the Lords of the kingdom began to call for a regent to be named for Frederick's eleven year old son. Logically, Frederick's brother, Prince Winslow, was chosen. Just before the coronation of the young son of Frederick II, the child vanished from the kingdom. The Agents were surprised and disgusted that this could occur right under their noses. In the chaos following this kidnapping (as we assumed it must be), Winslow convinced the Lords to support his coronation, and in May 491 he was crowned Frederick III. One of his first acts was to disband the Agents, removing from us our charter and authority.
Those of us in the capital gathered and decided to split our resources. Some of use would stay and continue attempts to uncover the cursed dark elves that must have had a hand in the death of our beloved King. The others would spread out across the land, find the prince, and return him to the throne.
So I was still in Grath, posing as an architect, when the order came down from the King to clear the city. He had his newly formed Special Guard remove all those who were not considered loyal to the King. That included everyone except the military. I found myself outside the city, still with no answers about the cause of the upheaval.
In the following months I stayed in the area of the city, holding onto my ruse of being a Gesni architect, attempting one last push to try to prove the Dark Elves' involvement. Much to my dismay, the proof I needed never surfaced. In February of 493, at the height of the elven genocide, I was present when Kyril Fëanor brought his troops to the city and assassinated Frederick III. Through Torma's fortune I was also present at the Rusty Dirk, a crossroads inn that saw much history pass through its doors. Fëanor was brought for trial, and acquitted. There too the decision was made to hold Sir Finnian as Regent, and to dissolve the Monarchy. And it was there that I first fought this decision, a fight that led to both my own banishment from Chalter Medrium, and the disgrace of the Agents of the Crown.
The new government pushed the Agents out as dissidents. The Senators had questions about our loyalties, for we made well known our displeasure at the way the Monarchy was pushed aside. Our group seemed to be the only one to question why Finnian was named “regent” when there was never any thought of returning to monarchial system of government. I still cannot believe that the royal bloodline was forgotten so easily. So, only four months after Fëanor's trial, Finnian was lauded a hero and named regent to an oligarchy. The Agents were thrown to the wolves, scapegoats for the previous regime's mistakes.
The Agents scattered to the winds. A characteristic of all the Agents was an individuality of spirit. Some of us, such as myself, found other paths to follow. I've heard that others continue to search for Xavier, still questing to return Chalter Medrium to its former glory.
Once again I found myself on the road, sleeping in fallen leaves, fighting off orcs, and eating the stale, soggy food. For the next few years I traveled the roads of the northern kingdoms, spending much time in the Three Peaks countries. There I survived by serving as a courier and scribe, working for merchants and smaller towns.
It is amazing to me how many of the smaller communities survive without the skills of letters, and record keeping. For almost eight months I was in a small town outside Mulcott, teaching a small group of children how to read and write. I'd tried to do this in other communities, but often was met with suspicion. There in Mulcott, however, a forward thinking elder sponsored my classes, housing and feeding me. It was there, in the woods of Palrim that my Lady first spoke to me.
At the beginning of 497, after holding class during a particularly bad snowstorm, I gratefully I dozed near the fire of the River Trout Inn. Soon, leaning back in my chair, head rested against the hearth, I dreamed. During those few moments of sleep Torma sent me a vision. When the Witnesses trained me, they told of how Torma will send visions between Witnesses, allowing one to see what another is seeing. It had never happened to me before. The vision she sent me was one of a meeting of the Elder Witnesses. In the vision I saw Alberath, speaking with the Lady herself! She told him of a prophecy, a moment in the future that will change all of Xaria. She said that at the end of 499, a great rift in time exists. Much of what she said was confusing to me, for she talked of the future as if it was the present. She stated that one man and one event will decide the future for all of Xaria, either destruction, or continued life. I will never forget the power of her voice, the lack of emotion and dispassionate way she spoke of the apocalypse. It showed me how much I had yet to learn about being her servant. She had to be sure that one with Her Sight be present when this prophecy comes true, and told Alberath to make sure that all of the Witnesses were travelling the land. One of us must find the Karandian; a man named “Tarrik”, and be by his side when the cusp moment occurs. She was forceful in her final words:
“I have always instructed that you maintain secrecy in your service to Me. However, the Karandian is more important than even that. Walk to lands, My Senses, talk to the people. Tell them of Me; tell them of your Quest. Make them open their eyes…” With that she faded away, and I awoke.
I spent several hours sitting by the fire, deciding my best path. I did not realize at that moment that in fact every Witness had been given this vision. I decided to wait for the winter to break then head for Karandia. I felt that perhaps there would be the best place to start my search for Tarrik, and for word of the prophecy. I went back to the Elder's house, and told him of my planned departure. During our conversation, he mentioned that perhaps the Blood Sky Omen had something to do with the coming troubles. He felt that perhaps the Omen was the first sign pointing to the millennial apocalypse. His logic was strong, and it gave more direction to my travels.
Upon reaching Karandia in the early spring, I began my attempts to gain access to one of the libraries, and to find anyone who would tell me of Tarrik. I found out quickly that his name was one that should not be spoken there, he and his family were in a great deal of disfavor. My days and nights were occupied trying to win the approval of a member of the Mage's council. It all turned for naught as one after another of the men I befriended fell to the political infighting that is so rampant there. With autumn again approaching, and news of a war between Dakkor and Doro Y'Edhel, I struck out, faithless and frustrated. I knew that my skills would serve me well near a war. I could sell the information I gathered to the highest bidder.
These plans began to unravel as the ship I was on was forced ashore in Irroquin by the naval blockade of Jannen's Bay. I decided to make my way north on foot. In Sep 497, I was at a crossroads Hall of Traveler's outpost when I met my old friend Jayfoot Bloomrose. There a large group of travelers confronted and defeated a Sequestrum Mage, Darien, who was attempting to open a portal to allow demons loose onto our world. Also during these three days, I met and was offered a job with the Crimson Serpents, a fighting band. But the most fortuitous meeting of those days was the Smithy Garn. He and I found that we share our birthplace, Icara. We struck a bargain. He is searching for Valkirk's Anvil, an ancient Dwarven Relic that is the match to his magical hammer. Both items belonged to his one time master, a Dwarven smith of great renown. Using Garn's Hammer and with Torma's blessing we enchanted my blade with the ability to force answers from anyone I question. In return, I promised to help Garn with his quest to find the Anvil.
At the end of these few days, Jayfoot proceeded south, with a group of Veldron knights and mercenaries, and I went north, towards the war. Only days later, at yet another Hall of Travelers encampment, I met a female dwarf named Mrin. Uncommon as Dwarfs are, to meet a female wandering Xaria is truly unusual. This encounter was yet another sign that I once again was in Torma's favor. I was able to share with her the information I know of the dragons, and the Blood Sky Omen. She was able to tell me much of what was occurring in the Dark Elf offensive. Apparently, she had only recently escaped their custody, although that was a story she was unwilling to relate.
After traversing Gallura, I reached the border of Doro Y'Edhel and Quivera, the front in the war between the elves and their dark kindred. There I made contact with Drusky Pinchflint, a representative of the Lindora government. He was there at the behest of his leaders to confirm that the trade resources reaching Quivera were not being diverted for the war efforts of either side. He agreed to pay my wage, if I would help him in gathering information about the war. For the next 5 months I worked in and around the region, including all of Quivera and Gallura, most of Dakkor and Doro Y'Edhel, and parts of Uragoth. In this time I learned much of the conflict, but nothing of the Dark Elven mentality. How they could afford to maintain a war against four separate countries is still a mystery to me. As the non-aggression pact between Doro Y'Edhel and Dakkor took hold the conflict began to take on a feel of guerrilla warfare, with the Dark Elves making only occasional attacks against caravans and supply depots. The income from Lindora was no longer available, so it seemed time to work on my bargain with Garn. Assuming that the best place to start searching for a Dwarven Relic is the Dwarven homeland, I decided to head north, towards Torin. I posted messages across Quivera hoping to have the Smithy Garn meet me in Palrim, at the Autumnal Festival. I'd hoped to have something to share with him regarding his quest.
Although I spent most of my time around the war paying attention to the conflict itself, I was always aware of any mention of an apocalypse, or of the man named Tarrik. On the roadways and in the taverns the most were unaware of the potential problems. The few that I heard discussing it, seemed to believe that the Blood Sky Omen of 250 was in fact a precursor of this prophecy.
In Torin I hope to find someone who was alive at the time of the Omen, someone who witnessed it. If I met with failure in Torin, my plan was to proceed to Akkoria to try to view the Documents of the Hands, the records kept by my faith. If the Hands would allow me to read them, perhaps I could glean some connection that had been invisible to the other Witnesses.
In August, 498, a courier met me in Quivera. He was carrying a message from my friend Jayfoot Bloomrose. The letter notified me that Jayfoot had been granted the status of Ambassador by the Halfling Elders. They had given him the task of learning more about the "Apocalypse". It seems that again our paths were entwined. We met in Telumar, and then traveled to the autumnal festival in Palrim.
As always seems to befall, my time with Jayfoot was eventful. At the Dwarven Baths in Palrim, a garrison of Gesnor troops had blockaded the crossroads, and was making records of all travelers. It seems that General Talonz, their commander, had been requested to keep the festival safe from dark elf incursions. To justify his troop's presence, a desiccated dark elf was hung from a tree near the Gesnor camp.
During our first afternoon there, the Gesni dragged a beautiful female human prisoner into camp. There, before a group of travelers, Talonz claimed that she was a sympathizer, having traded information to the dark elves. As I looked into her eyes, I could see that the General's story was not truth. Little did I know, I was both right and wrong.
Others in the group near the Inn felt as I did, and we set out to devise a plan to free the captive, to hear her story. We could feel an evil presence at work in General Talonz's camp. As the day progressed, the plan began to take shape. That night, a distraction would be made, while several of us freed the woman. Unfortunately for me, that night matters of greater import distracted me.
Sometime after dark, a creature entered the campground, Maglon, one of the Consortium Arbiters. For over a year I had been hearing tales of these creatures wandering the land, and had hoped to Witness one myself. That night I was able to speak at length with Maglon. He confirmed many of my suspicions, and also added much to my knowledge of the prophecy.
Maglon first questioned us. His three questions referred to current events around the lands. He asked if indeed the Elven Queen was seeking a new consort, if her husband had been killed by Shadows. Of this I answered yes, for the dark elves had recently assassinated the Elven King. Next he asked me if the “eagles fought among themselves in the mountains.” Again, I answered yes for I knew The Pick was seeking a revolution among the Eagle Elite, the Gesni military. His third question confused me, for he spoke of a land I did not know. Only later was it made clear to me. He asked if those who had been banished to Thien-Dun had begun a revolt, seeking self-rule. It has since been revealed to me that this refers to Gherin Culloch, and again speaks truth.
These answers seemed to make him resolved; my responses were what he sought. My questions were then answered in kind. Among his statements he made it clear that the coming judgement would be against only those people living in the lands once controlled by the Consortium, that is, only the humans. The demi-races would be spared. He also told us that at the judgement, at the gathering of the arbiters, any that chose would be allowed to speak, to bear witness for their people.
The following morning, again my Lady blessed me. Through Her Eyes and Ears I was allowed to communicate with Pernum Darkstorm. He appeared to me in a vision, and we were able to converse. He revealed that he is the Hands to the Lady Torma, one of the five most senior of the Witnesses. Pernum related Her desire for me to seek Tarrik, at all costs; that I had been chosen among the Witnesses to travel with Tarrik, to be Her link to the momentous events that Tarrik had set in motion. The experience of having the renowned Pernum Darkstorm appear to me at the behest of my Lady and speak to me as another Witness left me in awe. Many times in my service to Her awareness and power have astounded me, but never before have I been witness to Her might as I was that day.
In comparison to these two events, the rest of the happenings in Palrim were like a blur. The prisoner was freed, however, she was a double agent, loyal to Gesnor, and we the rescuers were exposed as members of a revolutionary group, "The Pick". General Talonz was found to be in league with a demonologist, and was slain. Two ancient Sequestrum Battle Lords appeared, and were destroyed. (I believe one set of their armor survived, but I know not of its fate.) There were other minor events, all of which pale beside my blessed Quest.
The next few weeks were spent travelling west with Mrin, Garn, Thomas, Jayfoot, and Peony. After several uneventful weeks, I decided to return to the south, towards Irroquin. There I'd hoped to make contact with Randall Straus of the Hall of Travelers. From a statement he once made to me, I felt that perhaps he would be a good contact to ask about Tarrik. It was my suspicion that he was a Witness, or at least knew of our Order.
In February 499, I reached Irroquin, and began looking for any trace of Tarrik and his party. While at a local Inn, I was able to intercept an official Hall of Travelers document, a wanted poster listing me as the assassin of Gesnor's General Talonz. It offers a very high reward. This both concerns and intrigues me. Why am I to be singled out as his murderer from among the group of travelers who were present at his death? Why is Gesnor willing to spend so much money to capture me? I must have stumbled upon a more complex situation than I realized. If I survive the coming months, and the arbiters do not change the world I know, I will travel to Torin, to find Mrin, to see if her family through the Three Peaks Accord can get the charge dropped.
That night I slept in the tree line outside the town. I awoke just before dawn from a powerful dream. In my dream I saw a man I once knew, in Chalter Medrium, looking somehow both content and afraid, with another man, an evil man. They were aboard a ship, somewhere at sea, returning to the mainland. Somehow I knew that the ship was bound for a port in Nost'Karé.
The intensity and clarity of the dream made me anxious to head east, to make sure I was there in time to meet the ship. The next morn, before sunrise, I went to the stables to hire a horse. For the next five weeks I went from town to town, selling one tired horse and buying another. By the middle of March I had made it to Halgudar, with little difficulty. There, walking my exhausted horse, I found a posting saying that the local Halgudar commander was hiring adventurers. This proved a good opportunity to get a fresh horse, so I answered the posting at the local fort.
The Commander there told of a series of strange sightings by farmers in the area. He hired myself and two other adventurers to investigate. We entered the woods, and began seeing signs of magik running wild. As the day wore on we began encountering increasingly larger numbers of undead Dark Elves. It seemed that they had died in a fire, and their bodies had then been re-animated. We knew we were nearing our goal when one of them addressed us, telling us to turn back. He was dispatched quickly.
At the focus of this disturbance we found an ancient Elven artifact, apparently misused by a Dark Elven wizard (who died in the attempt), causing a portal to open upon a magikal space, which was now leaking its power into the countryside. Guarding this portal was a being, calling himself Warpskull, from that magikal realm. The three of us, combining magik and steel were able to defeat him. The Elf among us was able to command the artifact to close the portal.
I returned to the fortress to collect my wage. As I suspected the Halgudar have little in the way of coin, but have agreed to give me passage on a ship that is bound for the coast. For the next two weeks I helped pull rope and clean fish aboard the ship, heading down river and towards Nost'Karé.
Upon reaching shore, I booked myself a room at a local Inn, cleaned myself up, and began searching for the most logical stopping spot for someone just off a ship. Soon I found the Forked Tongue Inn, just up from the water. I knew almost immediately that I had found what I was seeking, for Owen of Veldron was there in the Inn, as was both Pernum Darkstorm, and Angus Belch! (I knew Angus from Chalter Medrium, during the dark days at the end of my employ there.)
During the eve, many things of note occurred. Pernum Darkstorm and I were able to talk at some length, and I told him the stories of my travels. He stated he had been sent by our Lady to tell me of the Dark Elven war, but unfortunately he was unable to give me anything I had not already learned myself.
Also present at the Inn was Darien, the Sequestrum Mage I had encountered several years before. He seemed jovial, but who can tell? He also promptly called me by his true name, which was heard by several Beastmen who were there, a slip that caused me duress the following day.
But most fortunate, I was able to meet the remaining members of Tarrik's band. Owen of Veldron, the knight who knew me from Irroquin, spoke for me with the other men. After magikal questioning by their Elven Mage, they agreed to have me join them. At last, my quest has begun.
The next day we were to meet at a crossroads way station, then proceed forward with our quest. It did not go smoothly. The Knights were late arriving. We traveled with a caravan that was harassed by goblins. A djinn appeared and began casting spells at everything in sight. A group of Beastmen appeared, trying to collect the bounty on my head. And, a powerful warrior cursed to wear armor that was enslaved to a golden disc made an appearance. Too late did we realize that the DeMekrium mage who arrived to capture the Djinn was in fact one of Primor's acquaintances and that by allowing him to take the Djinn we were in fact harming our cause. Haggard Di, a wandering bully and warrior arrived, and it seems is our only lead on finding Tarrik. Haggard Di was most recently a General in Dakkor responsible for carrying out the Elven genocide. Working with him is going to prove difficult, especially with two Black Rose Knights in our midst. Following his instructions, we are heading towards Rynith, which is the route to Primor and Tarrik...
The next weeks were difficult ones, a group without a leader. We knew that for our Quest to succeed we would need to recover Tarrik, and for that reason we traveled into Fer Garruth, fighting off wave after wave of Barbarians, following Haggard Di along an uncertain path. On yet another day along the trail we encountered the Left Hand of Vorak, an acolyte named Brianna. She stated that her God had sent her to aid us, to protect Tarrik. Under the Perceptions of my Lady she confirmed that she spoke truth, and we accepted her into the group.
Several hours down the path, with yet more conflict with barbarians, we came upon a clearing. In that clearing were many elves, perhaps twelve, performing a ceremony I had never witnessed before. As I approached, and the rest of the band circled them, I called upon my Lady’s sight. In the center of the circle, the elves had Tarrik bound, bloodied, and gagged. It became clear that they intended to judge him guilty of a capital crime, and slay him there, before our eyes! How little they understood the fate to which they so off-handedly surrendered this world!
A melee broke out, with both sides reluctant to cross swords, but also both sides unwilling to concede. Luckily, myself and Brianna were able to get through the elves to Tarrik, and my Lady placed a protection over us, allowing the chaos to swirl around us, without Tarrik coming to any more harm. Unfortunately, Tarrik was still under the influence of the Godstone, and unable to assist us in his escape. After much argument, some bladework, and considerable magiks, we were able to free Tarrik from his bonds, and take him from the elves. In the midst of the chaos, though, both Haggard Di and Vadrick, son of Kyril Fëanor, Black Rose Knight, fell.
The next two months were occupied with myself, Tarrik, and Risha travelling to Doro Y’Edhel. The rest of the group split to accomplish other goals. We would meet again at the Arch in Chalter Medrium in July. In Doro Y’Edhel, I was able to see Kyril Fëanor, for the first time since he had come to Chalter Medrium and was tried. The meeting with him was very difficult. He already knew of his son’s death, but Tarrik and I had information about Vadrick that common couriers could not relate. During this meeting, I too told him of my long held hatred and bitterness against he and his actions in Chalter Medrium so many years ago. He seemed both surprised, and appreciative of my admission. We spoke together for many hours. I could tell that he had many other duties he was letting lie while we spoke, and the importance of that decision was obvious. After our talk, he walked to his chest, and took from it a chain shirt, of elven build. To me he presented it, with thanks for my frankness both about his son and about my anger. He told me that the importance of Tarrik’s quest cannot be understated, and that perhaps with the magikal chain I will be better able to help Tarrik succeed.
During the first week in Doro Y’Edhel, I penned a letter to Sir Finnian, seeking his aid in the coming months. I had too reached the conclusion that all the Questors had realized: we needed all the help we could get. So, with the letter I asked Finnian to aid us in any way he could. And told him to please respond to the Hall of Travelers. There waited an elven courier, to bring Finnian’s response to my request if it were to arrive.
Unfortunately, the time of our departure came, with no word from Chalter Medrium. Fearing the worst, Tarrik and I moved north, to meet Risha at the front lines of the war, and to attempt passage into the Kingdom. With the unexpected help of elven scouts, we three were able to cross into Chalter Medrium unmolested, and made haste to the Arena.
There, the Quest gathered. Tarrik, Risha, and I were first to arrive. Hours later, first Mordekai, then Owen. Over the next day followed Angus, Blackthorn, Viraddon, and Gault.
After fighting off recurrent goblin attacks, we were able to sit and discuss our plans. Over the hill, came a scream, and a Chalter Medrium soldier came running. Closely behind her was a large band of Goblins. Before we could close to confront them, she had been slain. Only after the battle did someone call me over to the body. To my dismay, upon her wrist was the tattoo of the Agents. For eight years I had been seeking another of my kind, and her she lay, dead. Adding to my misery, it was for me that she had come. In her hand was a note, a return message from Finnian. It clearly stated that he wanted to help, but could not. So, he had given my letter to one of his men, another Agent. In the message it was made clear to me that Finnian was going to aid us. He would provide access to the Arch on the 9th of September, days prior to the Judgement, so that we could make our way to Ile Sen unmolested.
After we had buried Eloisa, we journeyed the short distance to the arena, and there had a true conversation, for the arena is a place void of magik. Finally, the Quest was nearly whole, and feeling positive about the coming battles and trials.
That night, a strange dream came to us all. We were seated around the fire, trying to enjoy its warmth and the camaraderie of the group, when something acted upon us, driving us into an unquiet sleep. The next I realized, I was in a dream…
A man came to the fire, saying his name was Peralton, the missing guide, a member of the Quest. He asked me to follow him into the woods. I, and the rest of the group, followed. He led us along a trail that only he could see. Along this path, we were shown a future so hideous, it is hard to believe it now. He showed us a world after our failure, a time when Primor holds sway, and is conquering the Land. We were shown people we know, and trust, fighting a fight they could not win. I saw the Sequestrum mage Darien fighting and dying side-by-side with Anduin of Veldron. I saw Ade, cursing Tarrik and his quest. And we saw Tyrus, following the commands of Primor’s men. It still chills me to think of it.
When the phantasm of Peralton returned us to the fire, we awoke, each adventurer sharing his own private dread. The ashen look on Tarrik’s face was horrible to behold. I begged my Lady to show me what was real and what was illusion, but She would not grace me with Her sight. This test I was forced to confront on my own. After several moments of conversation about what we had experienced, I left camp, for I needed to seek my Lady’s guidance. There, kneeling next to Eloisa’s grave marker, I spoke to Torma, and the answers I found were very disturbing.
As I observed my surroundings, and began the simple mantra, I found my thoughts wandering to the scenes from the dream. There I saw many people who are familiar to me forced into roles they would not normally manage. Did this in fact show that who we are is not real? Do we wear our selves like clothes, free to remove or change them as needed? This could explain how a simpleton such as Todd could become a poison wielding assassin. My next thought chilled me to the bone: Could the Consortium be correct? Is this world, this civilization, unworthy? We have constant strife, wars that ravage the countryside. Lands that once were joined are now at each other’s throats. We seem to be holding a line against an ever strengthening foe, one who, if not watched, steals allies and turns them against you. Perhaps the Judgement of the Arbiters to raze this place would be the best thing possible. Take it back to nothing and build again…
Soon, awareness returned to me. I had spent quite some time in the darkness, near the grave of the friend I never knew. But, I stood, and turned back towards the fire. Back to Tarrik’s side. What am I to do? I am but one Witness, asked by the Lady Torma to be present at this crucial moment in time. Am I to aid Tarrik, or simply Witness his trials? Am I to be a participant in this event, or only a conduit for Her to see what occurs? I find that as the day grows nearer I must take Her instructions literally, as our faith believes we must. She has instructed me to assure that Tarrik and I reach the Judgement. Once there, I am to be Her Witness to the events that transpire. I must become as impartial an observer as I can. There, I must wear the robes of my faith closely about myself. I must provide a view with clarity and quietness.
It is more apparent now, I must no longer fight for Tarrik’s cause once the Judgement begins. If the Arbiters confront me for my words, they will hear all that I have seen; the good and bad, the selfish and selfless. I will be the only Witness there, so through me She must see the Judgement as clearly as I can provide.
I now find myself looking forward to this ending. I am certain now that it is She that I serve in all that I do. If, during our time on Ile Sen I am forced from this realm, it is by Her side that I will stand. I must, however, survive the conflict so that I can Witness the Judgement. Mayhap I can prepare another to walk in my place if I fall. I should speak to Manasseh, perhaps he will be willing to call upon my Lady when the Judgement occurs.
Much has happened in the past year of my life. I did go to the Judgement, and there I did serve my Lady well. It was difficult. She sent along with I two other Witnesses, an elder who had traveled with Primor, another a novice whom I had recruited. There the balance was maintained, for the novice fought for Tarrik, and I and elder stood and witnessed, and did not interfere.
It was a troubling event, for, many of the people with whom I had spent so much time were slain. The Arbiters of the Consortium arrived, and, as was Tarrik’s suspicion, Stanscliff arrived to attempt to control their decision. His forces overwhelmed the Questors, and only through the arcane magik of the Arbiters allowed them to walk again. Mordekai of Veldron, however, was lost beyond recovery.
I again was graced by my Lady while in Dominia. She entered the body of the novice, Peony, and spoke with me. She felt that I was wavering in my ability to accurately Witness for Her, and, spoke to me of Her needs, and my pledge. It was both wondrous to be in her presence, and unbearable to think that I was so close to failing Her. After that moment, my hair transitioned to the silver of an elder.
After returning from that distant continent I was recalled to the Keep, to write for the Hands my experiences. It took me the majority of the winter to accurately present the story. When spring came, and I was released, I spent a day of meditation. I was hoping that She would give me another task. But, no matter how precise and complete my prayers, She did not answer. This made me realize that I had come to rely too much on Her intervention, and that I could no longer distract Her from Her duties. So, it was up to me to choose that which needs to be Witnessed. As I reviewed my life, I realized that I already had the path to the next quest. Darien, of the Sequestrum, knows of me and my faith. I must find him, and Witness his world. I must show Her what She has not yet seen. In Nost’Kare, I found him…
Though my path brought me to his side, and I understand that because of my sacrifice his world is now known to Her, the time I spent in his company was extremely disquieting. There are many stories I could tell of those travels, but I have chosen to leave them between him and I, and I and Her. To reveal (revile, revel) those tales I feel would serve no good for anyone. It is my sole hope that I will never cross paths with one who would demand from me what I have seen. For in my desire to preserve from others the horrors I have Witnessed, I may be seen to shelter the enemy of all goodness. It is a quandary that I have not yet been forced to solve.
I have spent the past three years wandering peacefully about the roads of Xaria. After so long in the thick of things, as it were, it has been a nice change to not whet my blade each night. There is so much that was within my reach all those years that I never Witnessed, focused as I was upon a seemingly larger goal.
My hair now grows long and is silvered; the Lady’s power has flowed through me for many seasons. I have returned to those lands I once traveled with Tarrik and Frederick. I have returned to the mountains of Dominia, and seen the strange trees, birds, and men. I spent months in the lands of Nost’Kare, seeking quiet moments with those who shade their faces, and always glance to the ground. The people of Chalter Medrium again suffer for their folly, yet they seem forever unable to admit their weakness…All these things and places I have Witnessed, and She has written.
Word reached me in Palrim that Olivia Goslar was to wed in September of 504. Upon traveling there I met many whom I had met before. At her wedding it became clear that her groom had plans other than marriage, and the gathered group, strange bedfellows all, were able to prevent his attempts at capturing magik for his own device. Of more import at the wedding, I found myself sitting in a sunny patch, bringing my awareness to the world around me, and praying to Her. As I sat there, it came very clearly into my head that I should lay my sword upon the wedding gift basket, and that once disarmed, I would have nothing to fear.
As the wedding occurred, and the groom’s plan came into view, it seems that he had performed an ancient rite that allowed him access to the magik of all mages in his homeland, and all mages who had ever encountered Olivia. I too experienced a loss of Torma’s touch. Though, unlike other mages around me, as the night progressed She and I were reunited. My first theory is that his magik could not fool the gods, though I could not test this as there were no other priests with us. My second thought, and now I suspect the correct one, is that She could see what this man was about to do, and used it as a chance to bring me closer to Her. The next morning I realized that She was granting me more power, more favor, more quickly. I have often heard tales amongst the Witnesses that those who reach the highest ranks of Her followers are often treated this way.
For two years since I left the path of Darien of the Sequestrum I have not put Her power and my skills to work. Though the quiet places of the world also deserve Her attention, I am not to walk there. I have been in difficult and complex places, facing wonderful and terrible moments. She wants me to again walk to the dangerous places.
I have been aware for nearly six months that something was amiss in the underplanes. Darien taught me much of that world, and the powers that reside there. Something is wrong, and I suspect it comes from four years ago when I was present in the underworld for the escape of Caspian. That world is not settled, a civil war may be coming.
This of course all assembled in my mind as the portal appeared before me in the brush. I have seen Darien open these before (usually through the brutal death of a child). I am sure it is no accident that the portal appeared near me. Whether by Her wish, or perhaps Darien, I am to attend whatever happens next…
(Stepping through this portal, I was brought to a game run by Robin in October of 2004. I honestly cannot remember much of the plot, though it was the game with the Flies. I think we saved the world, but just barely.)
Feeling the pull of familiar land, following my trips into the alternate planes, watching mortals battle the forces of our shared reality, I traveled to Chalter Medrium. There, at an Inn, I met a ghost to whom I was related. His tale was a simple one, which once understood and told, allowed him his final, innocent rest. This was the midwinter, 504.
For the months since, I have walked the trails and paths of Chalter Medrium, ever moving further east. The monster army is growing more bold, and their incursion into human lands is a fascinating process to watch. They advance, pillaging and burning as they go. The few movements they do make where property is not destroyed is those ravines, valleys, or glades which can be well defended and supplied from within the Dark Shadow Forest. The military skill shown in their advance seems beyond the ken of normal monsters. Perhaps I need meet Ank? Would he be willing to speak to me? Could I survive the parlay?
For now, I will stick to the edge lands, observing people respond to this new, potent and terrifying threat. As always, it is humankind that holds my interest. Perhaps there is truth that we were the last, perfected creation of the gods?
After a particularly cold winter in the lands to the north of Uragoth, I have decided to take a break in Rynith, or perhaps Akkoria. To that end, I have traveled across Dakkor, south through Lindora, and will soon enter Halgudar to turn east towards Rynith. Perhaps this Inn will suffice for a nights sleep?
505 - was at an Inn which was held up by brigands with firearms
509 - was in-game in Halgudar to discuss life with Svar Vorchanchin.
Much time has passed untold here. Zachary has transcended from PC to NPC, for the most part, as his knowledge of Xaria rivals mine, which makes him a useful device, and a somewhat dull character to play in-game. Were this D&D, he would be of very high-level, dealing with very high-level problems. We don't have the system or style to manage this conversion.
You may meet him walking the roads of Campaign, or at an Inn. I love to be him, but, here in 2009 I think I am done keeping close track of him. Torma has granted him great power, and in return he serves her well. If you have managed to read down this far and are a GM looking for his presence as PC or NPC, please let me know.